Futile
by x- on gossamer wings
Summary: "Girls like Alicia Rivera didn't need to live any longer than necessary." Watch out Clique: When Alison DiLaurentis comes to town, it's bound to be one hell of a ride. Between the secrets, lies, and betrayals, comes a story of death and ultimately, love.


**A/N: Hello, readers! So glad you're not yelling at me for not sticking to one story yet *wince*. Sorry about that, by the way. Anyway, this is my first crossover; I know it's not all that impressive, but it will get better, I promise. Oh, my first crossover; tell me how bad it is in your reviews. ;) **

**Pretty Little Liars/Clique: I own nothing except the content of this fanfic. **

Girls like Alison DiLaurentis were the leaders. Alphas, some call them. Whatever they were, they were sexy and confident, and this particular one held certain juicy secrets about every single one of her followers. Perhaps, she was killed for her knowledge. Alison possessed the ability to guilt or trick secrets out of you, and the secrets she didn't know, she'd find out. Alison allowed herself to pick up total losers and transform them into total wannabe Clique girls. But when she goes missing one chilly night, her ex-BFFs have reason to be questioned, namely Spencer Hastings. They all have one huge secret to hide, but Spencer's secret is the only one that _must _be kept under wraps, But hey, people would _**die **_to know the secret that Alison has; the secret of Alicia Rivera's murderer.

Girls like Alicia Rivera didn't need to live any longer than necessary. Each moment she strutted around, innocent, was more dangerous than the last. With her exotic beauty and fearless attitude, there was nobody that would want to harm Alicia. Sure, she was snotty, but one summer she'd allowed Layne to use her country house in the Hamptons and decorate it to her liking. Fair enough; when Alicia returned, there were freaky masks and ugly blankets everywhere. But no-one really, truly resented her since then…no-one obvious. So when police found her dead body in the summer of 2009 and three months later, declared Massie Block guilty, nobody knew what to make of it. However, before Massie was arrested, and before Alicia was killed—certainly, she was killed—there'd been secretive plans in motion…

xXx

Massie Block was not your average teenage girl. Yes, she was filthy rich, and supremely popular, and quite gorgeous. But she hid a personality that was yet to reveal itself.

A starry night, cool on the first of December, changed her life. Massie Block was carefully dressed in a silky purple nightdress from Victoria's Secret, her delicate, baby-smooth feet tucked into white slippers made for nighttime. Massie slipped out of her white walled room, sensing a shift in the air. She couldn't sleep, couldn't even close her eyes. Something was horribly wrong. In an effortless motion, Massie swept back her brunette locks and tied it all in a ponytail with her brown hair tie. She tip-toed quietly down the light wooden steps and darted behind them as soon as her slippers hit normal, level ground again. Her lower back dug into the doorknob that rested on the door behind her, but Massie ignored the pain and stared directly forward, trying to glimpse her parents in her large living room. It was only 11:00pm; they wouldn't be asleep.

"Ugh, you stupid, worthless, good for nothing liar, that's what you are." Massie could hear her parents fighting. Somewhat sadly, Massie breezed out the back door, not surprised that nobody noticed her. Ever since last month when she became put together the Pretty Committee, things at home were rocky and often loud. The back door was right behind her, easy to slip out of.

As soon as Massie's slippers met with the damp grass, the daring fourteen-year-old shivered. A yellow piece of paper tumbled past, and on instinct, Massie grabbed it. She stuffed it under her shirt, crept back to her room, and read it, her quiet breaths marking the time.

xXx

Alison DiLaurentis embraced the cold wind with opened arms. Her long-sleeved, glitter-tinted, iridescent looking black shirt gave the impression that Alison was happy, as did her short jean skirt, fitting perfectly on top of leggings so expensive even some celebrities were disgusted. She wiggled her feet back into the black flats she'd bought as she half-ran towards the woods, gasping for breath. On this night, she knew that her sister, the _real _Alison, would come and try to kill her.

"Hello, sister." An evil smirk illuminated the face of the original Alison, who was instantly behind her. "How pleasant it is to see you faking and lying, pretending to be me—yet again."

Fake Alison, whose name was Courtney, bared her teeth in a growl as she whipped around; "I don't know what you're talking about. Get away from me."

"Make me. Oh wait, that's right; you can't. Come get me, Courtney—or would you like me to call you Alison, seeing you've stolen my identity!"

The two sisters collapsed in battle, wrestling beside the dangers of the murky forest. Blonde hair flying, Courtney flew away from the original Alison and fell down, into a pit. Alison watched in satisfaction as Courtney's eyes closed slowly, and her chest stopped rising and falling.

Alison knew she'd have to run away, thinking she'd killed her sister. So she dashed off, stealing a car to drive to Westchester, New York. However, the moment she was out of sight, Courtney's blue eyes snapped opened and she grinned, emerging from the hole.

Never mistake a pretending pretty girl for dead.

**R&R, luv ya! **


End file.
